Page 6 of Accept Me (Fate’s Choice #4)

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my booth until I noticed Mr. Sanderson leaving with Storm and some jacked beta.

At least that’s what the guy looked like from a distance.

Huh. Did some desperate dude actually buy Sanderson’s contract?

I didn’t know what that was about, and honestly, I didn’t care.

Maybe Sanderson had decided to open his contract to betas and omegas to increase his odds. Some people did that, but not me.

I didn’t even notice when that gorgeous black-haired omega around forty disappeared. His contract must’ve been picked up too, no surprises there.

Did that mean I was the only one left? Wait… there was still that ex-con from the beta section, but I wasn’t going over there to find out. That would’ve looked like I was trying to feel less shitty by watching someone else get shit on.

When the first day of the expo finally ended, I spotted Storm Nolan’s towering figure heading toward me. Hard to miss, given how tall he was.

I immediately threw on an even colder mask. I stepped out of the booth and shoved the keycard into his hand.

"I’ll be back tomorrow," I growled. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t give him the chance.

Like a firecracker, I bolted out of the hall, which was already starting to empty out. I looked around right away, scanning the lot for any sign of Dino, but thankfully, he was nowhere to be found.

The little hotel run by Fate’s Choice sat on the other side of the parking lot, tucked inside a small grove of trees. It was probably nice, but I wasn’t interested in appreciating any of it. I went straight to my room, dreaming of nothing but sleep.

But sleep didn’t come.

I tossed and turned, more like thrashed, furious and restless. My nerves were completely shot. I was filled with frustration and a storm of other emotions I couldn’t even name.

For the thousandth time, I went back to that one memory, the moment I made the stupidest decision of my life.

The moment I said yes to Dino.

If I had never met that bastard, everything would’ve been different. But I let him manipulate me like an idiot, terrified, desperate, and dumb as hell.

My whole messed-up story kept flashing through my head like some aggressive red strobe light, burning into my brain, each memory pounding like a hammer, flooding me with anger and regret.

Especially now, after such a brutal, pointless day. What little hope I had left was starting to fall apart.

If I had gone straight to the agency in my first year of college, things would have looked completely different. Sure, I was an omega who’d done two years in juvie, but I knew that if I had just told the truth about why I ended up there, people would’ve understood.

I could’ve had a real shot at a decent contract. But instead, I threw myself into that mess with the sick fucker, Dino.

Even though I mostly managed to avoid him during my last year at school, I saw him one last time at graduation in mid-June, three months ago.

He stood there in the crowd, silent, this terrifying dark exclamation mark, staring at me from a distance.

I was grateful a few of my friends were with me; if not, he might have tried to come closer.

My inhaler was in constant use. I felt like the world was spinning.

If it weren’t for the bastard, I wouldn’t be here today, forced to be ogled in a glass booth, completely overlooked by every alpha who passed me by. None of them wanted to give me a chance.

None of them cared to learn my story.

I’d done my research before coming to the fair.

I knew that a lot of alphas saw former sex workers as high-risk.

They quoted stats about how those marriages didn’t last as long, how the relationships weren’t stable.

And they were paying for stability, after all.

That was the point of getting a contract deal in the first place.

It was brutal, but it was the reality I had to face. Buyers wanted high-end stock. If they were dropping millions, they wanted a guarantee or the lowest risk possible.

Part of me got that. The logical, business-minded side understood the stats. But the other part of me hated being written off forever.

They didn’t know what pushed me to make those decisions. I saw it in their eyes, the judgment, the contempt. Not one of them had the decency to even walk into my booth and ask what really happened or who I actually was.

And in a way, it broke something in me. There were moments when I wanted to cry, but instead, I locked it all behind the same hard mask I always wore.

I couldn’t let those emotions take over. That facade was the only thing I had left. I wore it when Dino brought clients to me. I wore it when strip club regulars requested one-on-one time. That mask became my armor, my tactic. It gave me strength, a strange kind of power, a fierce resilience.

I wasn’t going to let them defeat me. I wasn’t going to let them destroy me with shame.

Tomorrow, I had to go back into that same glass hell all over again. And keep the mask on.

◆◆◆

Probably because I slept in a hotel so close to the Fate’s Choice venue, my guard was down. I forgot to set an alarm and woke up literally ten minutes before nine.

In a rush of nervous energy, I showered, got dressed, and did my makeup, heavier than yesterday. I didn’t like wearing this much, but in a way, it was yet another wall I could hide behind.

I stepped out of the hotel, scanning the street for Dino like I always did. That habit had become part of me, a shadow I couldn’t shake whenever I entered a public space. I took a roundabout route toward the side entrance of the building. I already knew from yesterday that contractees could use it.

The hallway by the door was empty, everyone already in their booths. Still, I had to go to Storm first. He took the magnetic keycard to my booth.

I walked down the corridor toward the offices and knocked on his door, not exactly politely.

Today I’d come to the fair with a fighting spirit, even more determined not to let this situation crush me, but to push through everything head-on.

From inside came Storm’s voice. "Come in."

I walked in, ready to open my mouth and ask for the card without bothering with any kind of greeting, but stopped when I realized Storm wasn’t alone.

Sprawled out on the couch where I’d sat yesterday was someone I didn’t recognize, someone with a pretty striking look. Definitely a beta.

One side of his hair was electric blue and shoulder-length; the other side shaved clean. He had multiple piercings and a tattoo on the shaved part of his head. He looked wild, sharp, and completely unbothered by what anyone thought.

His strange eyes—one black, one steel gray—locked onto my face.

Next to him stood a police officer, also a beta, who shot me a glance filled with interest and maybe a little surprise. He probably didn’t expect someone who looked like me to still be around on day two of the event.

Of course, I kept my face blank.

"I’m here for the card," I said flatly.

"Oh, right. Of course!" Storm said quickly and turned toward his desk, opening a drawer.

Almost without thinking, my gaze slid back to the convict. I was pretty sure that’s who he was, the one Storm mentioned yesterday. And, of course, he was handcuffed… if I had any doubts.

He looked about my age, and he was watching me with way too much interest, chewing on a plastic coffee stirrer. An empty cup sat beside him.

When he noticed I was staring back, he puckered his lips and blew me an exaggerated kiss.

"What’s your secret, doll? Second day of the event, and a pretty little prince like you still hasn’t found anyone? Must be some kind of incurable STD?" he said, his voice husky and cocky.

I froze for a second, but I didn’t let it shake me. Guys like him counted on getting a reaction. Their goal was to dominate the space the moment they opened their mouths.

"Aww, someone sounds bitter. Didn’t get picked too, huh?" I mirrored his lip-pursed smirk. "With that record of yours, I bet it’s not easy."

That kind of snappy comeback, that whole attitude, was something I’d learned in the strip club, even though it wasn’t in my nature. Customers used to throw disgusting lines my way, and I had to learn how to throw them right back. Letting them get under my skin wasn’t an option.

"Feisty little bitch," the convict muttered, curling his lip. "You’d be real popular in prison."

"Speaking from experience?"

He burst out laughing. "Pffff, you have no idea what you’re talking about. The hardest thing in your life was probably remembering to touch up your roots."

"Wrong," I said calmly. "I did two years. Longer than you, since you’re just getting saved from doing real time by the Second Chance Program. They’ll bail your ass out before you’d have a chance to be somebody’s bitch there."

There was a moment of deep silence in the room. That line clearly threw the guy off even though his face didn’t show it. The policeman and Storm went agape. They probably didn’t suspect I had it in me.

"Suuuure, you did time?" the felon muttered, clearly unconvinced. "Fairy tales. We’re definitely not in the same boat." He twisted his lips again.

"Agreed, we’re not. I’ve got the looks," I shot back.

The convict opened his mouth, probably to toss out even more remarks, but the cop nudged him in the neck with his baton.

"Enough, Salt! If you don’t behave, we’re never getting out of here."

Salt just snorted and stuck out his tongue. There was a small ring pierced through it. Then he leaned back against the couch, his cuffs clinking faintly.